


Requiem

by Mistflyer1102



Series: Immortal Ties [1]
Category: DC Extended Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Conversations, Gen, Grieving, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26482261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistflyer1102/pseuds/Mistflyer1102
Summary: At the Stork Club, Peggy has a conversation with an unexpected companion as she copes from Steve's death.
Series: Immortal Ties [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/52648
Kudos: 3





	Requiem

_ Am I selfish for wanting him back? _

Three days. Her heart still felt raw, a gaping growing hole in her chest that throbbed with each beat. If she closed her eyes, she could still hear the echoing  _ click _ as the line between her and  _ him _ disconnected for the last time. She still couldn’t wrap her head around the idea that she would never hear his voice, never feel his warmth as he pulled her in for that one last kiss, never feel his presence again. Even the coldness of her drink glass against her fingertips was nothing compared to the burn behind her eyes as she stared blankly at the countertop in front of her.

_ This is my choice _ .

“Damn you Steve. I know it was your choice, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt any less,” Peggy Carter whispered to herself as she closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose to ward off the threatening tears, and the swelling guilt in her heart.  _ You’re in public _ , she tried to remind herself sternly, only half-aware of the soft jazz music and low murmur of conversation in the background. Word of Captain America’s death was still spreading, but apparently the Stork Club was a favorite hangout of the Howling Commandoes. Steve’s absence felt like a gaping hole here already: even the barkeeper had draped a black cloth over the counter. Only a few minutes remained before eight o’clock, and despite everything, despite the Commandoes already at their preferred table in the back corner, she still had a tiny persistent kernel of hope that maybe, just  _ maybe _ , Steve would walk through that door. 

She hoped he would come late. Late was better than never at all.

_ Please _ .

She only checked the clock long enough to see that the hour and minute hands slide into place.

Eight o’clock.

The Stork Club front door remained closed.

Fighting a new twist of grief in her heart, she returned to her drink, which was beginning to warm up in her hands. She barely felt a twinge of curiosity to find that she didn’t care.

She didn’t hear the door open, even with its creaky hinges. She  _ did _ notice when the general buzz of conversation died down, even for just a few minutes. Momentarily confused, she turned around in her seat, heart clawing up her throat in a surge of impossible  _ hope _ —

But it wasn’t Steve at the door.

Peggy furrowed her brow when she saw the newcomers, a young woman and older man she didn’t recognize despite the niggling sensation in the back of her mind that they should look familiar. The woman’s dark hair was pulled into a tight bun, and she wore a knee-length black coat that helped her blend into the background of the club. the man wore a heavy coat that had seen better days, and he hovered near the woman as they began to make their way through the tables. Peggy was about to face forward again, ready to dismiss the newcomers when a flicker of movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention. Frowning, she blinked in surprise when she saw Timothy ‘Dum Dum’ Dugan stand up from the Commandos’ table and approach the newcomers. Peggy arched a brow as he and the woman embraced, heads bowed as the woman said something to him. Dugan replied with a soft “thank you” and moved to speak with the man as the woman stepped around Dugan to approach the other Commandos.

_ Huh _ .

As a staff member of the SSR, Peggy thought she knew everyone who knew the Commandos. Granted, there were a few people she hadn’t met yet, primarily those who worked and were based on the Continent, but Peggy didn’t think they would leave their posts when there was still a war in progress. Just because the Red Skull was dead didn’t mean that Hitler was as well.

Swallowing tightly, Peggy turned forward again, staring at the half-finished drink on the counter in front of her. Maybe she should skip the drink after all, and go back to work, it wasn’t like General Phillips was going to complain.

Peggy raised her hand to catch the barkeeper’s attention so she could pay and leave.

The scraping noise of the stool next to her being dragged across the floor however caught her attention first.

It was the woman from earlier.

Peggy inclined her head to the other woman in greeting, intending to ignore her after so she could pay and go. The woman, however, had other ideas.

“Two shots of whiskey on the rocks, or whatever you have that is strong,” the woman said to the barkeeper as he approached them. She glanced at Peggy and asked, “Would you like one as well?”

Peggy shook her head, simultaneously intrigued and caught off guard by the woman’s strong French accent. A recent refugee from the parts of France still under Nazi occupation? Judging from the barkeeper’s raised brow, he hadn’t been expecting that either. “No, thank you. I’m actually still working on my first one,” Peggy said, catching herself and gesturing to her still mostly-full glass on the counter in front of her.

The woman nodded before turning back to the barkeeper. “Just two, then. the second is for my companion, he’s at the table in the back,” she said, and the barkeeper nodded before flickering a wary glance over Peggy’s shoulder. He then turned and left the two of them sitting there.

Given that she had a pretty good idea where the woman’s companion was, Peggy still glanced over her shoulder to find that the man had settled between Jacques Dernier and Jim Morita. Judging from what looked like a rapid exchange between the three, the men apparently knew each other well. Peggy furrowed her brow, trying to remember if the graying newcomer was in the SSR files as one of their Continent agents.

“Sameer.”

Peggy jerked out of her examination by a woman’s voice - her neighbor. The woman gave her a wry smile before jerking her head toward the Commandos’ table. “That is Sameer, he and I worked extensively with the Howling Commandos these past few years,” she said as Peggy turned in her seat to properly face her.

Now _ that _ was a name Peggy recognized, not only from SSR’s files, but also from General Phillip’s numerous rants every time the Commandos went off the books due to a harebrained idea or whimsical suggestion. “Then you must be Diana Prince,” Peggy said, another remembered file sliding into place in her mind. Like Sameer’s file, Diana’s fine had information, but no photograph. Steve had described her once in one of his letters, mentioning that even though he hadn’t known what to expect with their French allies who had been assigned to work with them, he had been pleasantly surprised. “Steve—Captain Rogers spoke highly of you and your team’s work in his letters,” Peggy added as she took another sip of her drink.

Diana laughed softly. “I’m surprised he ever said as much, I cannot tell you how often we disagreed on strategy.,” she said as the barkeeper placed a whisky glass in front of her. “Thank you,” she said to the barkeeper, who nodded before stepping out from behind the counter, presumably to deliver the other glass. “And you must be Margaret Carter as General Phillips identified you, Peggy, to the Commandos,” she continued as she turned to face Peggy again. She tilted her head, and said, “Captain Rogers spoke of you fondly.”

Steve. Peggy smiled, hoping that Diana couldn’t see the tiny thousand knives stabbing her heart at the memory of the gentle kiss right before Schmidt’s plane took off with its deadly cargo. The last time she would ever see him. “We were just friends,” she said, careful to keep her voice steady and level. “We just talked and exchanged letters, nothing else.”

Diana raised a brow, and for a moment, Peggy stared at her, silently daring her to say something. It was none of Diana’s business that Peggy had a brief fire of grief before sinking into a numbness that, even days later, continued to seep from her skin to her blood and chilling her bones to a point where she felt like she would never be warm again. It was none of Diana’s business that Peggy occasionally lost track of the days and forgot that Steve was no longer there. The Commandos were kind, never calling her out if she set out too many chairs at the briefing table, or had one or two extra packets of intel relevant for the upcoming mission. Because it never mattered at the end of the day how many times Peggy just wanted to  _ stop _ : the war still raged on without the Red Skull’s interference, there were still people who needed safety, and there were still people who needed to be stopped. 

But Peggy wasn’t doing any of that. This moment was her reprieve.

Yet, to her mild surprise, Diana didn’t say anything.

Instead, she reached into a pocket within her coat and poked around for a moment before she pulled out a rectangular yellow-white object. Peggy had just processed the object’s appearance when Diana unfolded the rectangle — a photograph — before carefully flattening it on the countertop. Then she pushed it over to Peggy, who pulled it closer to her.

It was of a young man standing in front of the propellers of a small airplane. He was looking off to the side, but Peggy could see his youthful expression, the excitement in his eyes and partially opened mouth. She couldn’t quite make out the patches on his jacket, and she didn’t recognize what she could see, and it didn’t help that he was partially turned away from the camera. “Who was he?” she finally asked, looking up at Diana.

She was quiet for a moment. “His name was Captain Steve Trevor., he was serving in the United States Army Air Service towards the end of the Great War. He also served in British Intelligence, that was how he knew there was a faction of Germans who planned to disrupt the armistice talks. They were going to drop a biological weapon on the meeting itself…but he, and Sameer, led the team to the airfield.” She ruefully shook her head. “I was too focused on personal revenge to really understand what I had until I truly lost it. He and I were ‘just friends’, but it didn’t stop the pain. It took me some time to accept and come to terms with his choice,” she said, quirking a half-smile as she looked at the photograph. “I loved him, but never told him. But we are allowed that moment of selfishness and anger, where we ask ourselves why we have to lose someone we love to a sacrifice that changes the course of the war. A sacrifice that we do not initially understand in the moment, but come to terms afterwards.” Diana looked at Peggy and said, “Do not feel shame for wanting him back.”

“But it was his choice, and I should respect that,” Peggy said, careful to keep her voice from breaking near the end of her words.  _ Did Steve go through this too when Bucky died? _

“Just because we respect a choice doesn’t mean we have to like it,” Diana countered. She jerked her head toward the Commandos’ table. “Sameer made plenty of risky choices that I didn’t like, but once I voiced my concerns, I still respected his final decision.” She reached over and placed a gentle hand on top of Peggy’s. “Allow yourself to grieve, Peggy, and rest easy knowing that his soul is now at peace,” she whispered, and Peggy found herself blinking tears away, her vision blurring as she reached for the offered handkerchief.

“Thank you,” she finally whispered, dabbing her eyes. She sensed rather than saw Diana reach for the photograph and tuck it safely back into her coat pocket. Peggy pressed the handkerchief to her nose, hands covering her closed eyes as she struggled to regain her composure.  _ Maybe it’s definitely time to return home _ .

“Would you like a companion on the walk home?”

Peggy looked up, realizing a heartbeat later that she had spoken aloud. “No, no thank you,” she whispered, clutching the handkerchief as though it were a lifeline. 

Diane inclined her head as she stood up from the counter, and with a soft whisper of fabric, she turned on her heel and made her way to the back of the Stork Club where her friend,  _ Sameer _ , Peggy remembered, sat with the rest of the Commandos.

Peggy swallowed, and then stood as she left money on the counter for the drink. She turned on her heel and then started walking towards the door. She wasn’t ready to be surrounded by people just yet, she just needed one moment more of reprieve so she could face the war again in the morning. 

She needed to be as healed as she ever would be for the upcoming fight.

  


**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Peggy Carter and all related media belong to Marvel. Wonder Woman and all related media belong to DC.


End file.
